


My Type

by walkalittleline



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus loves one type of meat and that’s beef, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline
Summary: Caduceus has a type. A type that Fjord suddenly fits thanks to the Wildmother.





	My Type

Though it’s not something he would ever admit out loud—because, really, it’s no one else’s business—Caduceus has a type. When they’d met Ulumon and Wursh—and, to a lesser extent, Pumat—he’d felt the sudden urge to impress, to _ flatter _ them in a way he doesn’t recall ever wanting to do before. He supposes it was probably normal, he’d never exactly had a chance to meet people at the Grove and during his rare trips to Shady Creek Run, he’d only had contact with a few ship owners, none of which fulfilled the requirements of what was, apparently, his type.

Because Caduceus likes muscles. He’s not sure why, exactly, he’s not all that impressed with displays of brute force or violence so often associated with men built that way. But he likes the way muscles move and shift under skin, the strain and stretch of tendons and the sheen of sweat that rises from exertion. He remembers gushing with Jester over Wursh’s arms and abdominals, and months later he still calls upon that memory sometimes when he’s feeling frustratingly pent up. He’ll wait until he knows everyone else is asleep before locking the trapdoor to the tower and settling into bed, closing his eyes to imagine those large, calloused hands on his hips, coaxing his legs apart, bracing on either side of his head as he gets fucked roughly into the mattress. 

He’ll muffle his soft grunts and whines into the pillow as he gets himself off with quick pumps of his fist, eyes rolling back when he comes into his hand at the thought of broad hands replacing his own long, slender ones. He wonders vaguely what the others, who seem so sure of his ignorance and innocence, would say finding out how he sometimes spends his evenings. 

He admits he was a little disappointed that neither Fjord nor Caleb, while attractive enough in their own right, quite fit the bill to help fuel his fantasies, which begin to get a little stale from repetition after awhile. There’s only so many times he can replay the same scenarios in his head before they start to lose their charm.

And so when he sees Fjord emerge from a mess of tangled kelp, wet and groggy, with suddenly thicker arms and pectorals that strain against his sopping shirt, he can’t help but file the image away in the back of his mind even as he feels a surge of pride and affection for Fjord. He tells himself not to feel guilty, lingering on the image in his brain, watching the way Fjord suddenly walks slightly straighter, the bulge of his shoulders under his cloak and the renewed confidence that Caduceus finds both attractive and endearing. Sure, he still has nothing on Wursh when it comes to build, but Caduceus can appreciate the addition of variety to his daydreams. 

Fjord is present and charming and _ fascinating _to Caduceus. The way he’s grown and sought out Caduceus to help him on his journey makes him feel like he’s moving in the right direction, that leaving his home to follow the Nein really is what he was meant to do. So maybe when he starts to imagine Fjord being the one to guide him to the bed and tug at his clothes, he imagines a certain softness to it that he hasn’t before. 

He wonders how it might feel to have the blunt points of Fjord’s tusks scrape his lips when he kisses him, how he would sound whispering one of the many nicknames he has for him into his ear, voice low and rough with arousal. He finds his eyes wandering to Fjord’s hands when they Commune together or sit next to each other at mealtimes, the way his palms and the pads of his fingers have grown rough and the filed-down tips of his dark, clawed nails that Caduceus suddenly can’t stop imagining raking down his back. The fact that Fjord has, as of late, been spending the occasional night sleeping in the tower has done little to quell his desires.

It’s a pleasant fantasy to settle into on those nights he finds he needs to relieve some of the tension in his limbs. When they’ve had a particularly draining fight or he feels himself growing frustrated at the lack of direction or progress they’ve made while his own plans are set to the wayside. It’s easy to fall into, too. Because he _ knows _ Fjord, smugly thinks that he probably knows him better than any of the others. _ Really _knows him, at least. Fjord came to him in his most vulnerable hours, chose his Goddess to follow out of the multitude of other options, asks for his opinion on this often before the others.

That’s how it starts, sometimes, the thought of Fjord coming to him seeking guidance, unsure and hesitant, demurely asking for his council, which Caduceus provides as always. It’s one of his gentler fantasies, when he imagines soft touches and shared breath, all-encompassing warmth that leaves him feeling sleepy and besotted. Other times, it’s a Fjord who’s flushed and sweaty with exertion or bruised and exhilarated from battle that finds him, pushes him onto the bed and kisses him with a frantic energy. Those nights he winds up wrung out and breathing heavily, the nights that leave him guiltily avoiding Fjord’s eye at breakfast. Sometimes he even imagines their time Communing with the Wildmother together leading to them winding up in Caduceus’ bed, though these are less frequent as they always make Caduceus feel vaguely sacrilegious.

It’s during one such communion, the two of them seated on the floor with the others gathered around them expectantly, that things change. He sets up the usual ritual circle and Fjord, who usually stands at his shoulder watching with the others, asks instead to sit across from him. Caduceus bids him to do so with a smile, lighting the incense as Fjord does as he’s told, struggling a little to fold his legs like Caduceus. Caduceus closes his eyes and breathes in the heady smoke, stilling when warm hands gently take his own where they’re resting on his knees. He opens his eyes, taken aback at the touch, and his heart catches in his throat when Fjord gazes back at him, his head slightly lowered. His expression is calm and blank but there’s a darkness behind his eyes, a heat that makes Caduceus’ stomach knot and squirm. His thumbs slide slowly over Caduceus’ knuckles and Caduceus’ throat bobs as he swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Should we start?” Fjord says quietly. It sounds so suggestive, though Caduceus knows it’s just his imagination putting tone there that doesn’t exist. He still can’t help the warmth that prickles the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” Caduceus says with a nod. “Let’s start.”

Fjord’s fingers tighten in his own but when Caduceus looks up his eyes are closed. So he lets his own drift shut and tries not to stumble his way through his questions. And when he’s finished and the familiar warm breeze has died around him, he makes an excuse to leave among the babble of talk between the others, muttering something about checking his plants as he ducks into the hall and heads towards the tower.

It’s not hard to realize Fjord is following him, though he tries to ignore the soft tread of his boots on the floorboards behind him, keeping his pace unhurried. Maybe Fjord is just going to his own room, it’s close to the tower, after all. He realizes he’s had no such luck, however, when Fjord calls after him just as he’s climbing the spiral stairs leading up from the makeshift baths they’ve set up at the base of the tower.

“Caduceus?”

Caduceus stops reluctantly halfway up the stairs, putting on an expression of faux surprise as he turns to him.

“Fjord,” he says warmly, “I didn’t know you were there.”

A look of doubt crosses Fjord’s face, like he _ knows _ Caduceus, who rarely misses anything, is lying. He doesn’t bring it up, though.

“Could we talk a moment?” he says instead, mounting the stairs himself and taking a few steps up them so he’s still half a dozen below Caduceus. The fingers of his right hand are twisting almost imperceptibly around the hem of his cloak, a nervous sort of tick that Caduceus has picked up on.

“Of course,” Caduceus replies, trying not to think about the fact that this is exactly how many of his fantasies start.

Fjord takes a few steps closer, leaving only two stairs between them.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he says, one hand resting lightly on the stone wall.

“What can I help you with?” Caduceus says and cocks his head to the side with a curious frown.

“It’s about something Nott said,” Fjord says. He pauses, like he’s trying to decide if he really wants to say what he’s about to say. “Is it—do followers of the Wildmother really take a vow of chastity?”

Caduceus chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

“No, Fjord,” he assures him, trying not to flush or allow the twinge of jealousy at the thought of Fjord bedding down with someone else to bother him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t asking about me,” Fjord says softly, stepping up another stair so he’s standing on the one below Caduceus, head tilted back so he can look up at him. He barely rises to Caduceus’ chest in this position. Caduceus can see the jagged line of pale scar across his brow from this distance, make out his fine, dark eyelashes and the way his stunted tusks press into his upper lip. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Caduceus manages to force out, the words coming out almost breathless as it suddenly feels like the air has been squeezed from his lungs.

“I mean,” Fjord begins. His hand lifts between them to rest lightly on Caduceus hand, fingers tracing up the back of his wrist. “Did you?”

Caduceus blinks, opens his mouth mutely, closes it again, and wets his lips.

“No,” he finally says, voice hushed.

“Good.” 

Fjord steps up to crowd onto the stair with him, his hand cupping the back of Caduceus’ head as he pulls him into a kiss.

Caduceus nearly topples backward from the combination of shock and nearly losing his footing on the narrow step, eyes widening as he plants one foot on the step behind him to keep from falling just as Fjord’s hand grips his lower back to steady him.

It’s nothing like his imagination, slightly off center, his own lips too dry, the surrounding air faintly smelling of earth and still water. But it’s so much better than anything his mind could create because it’s _ real_. Fjord’s lips are warm and soft, his tusks pushing gently into his lower lip, his fingers digging into his scalp and the base of his spine. He pulls away with a quiet gasp after a few seconds and Caduceus makes a low, strangled noise in his throat.

“Wha—“

“I heard you,” Fjord breathes, his bright, yellow eyes swallowed up by his wide pupils. “I came to talk to you three nights ago. I thought you were hurt, at first.” Caduceus feels humiliated heat burn across his face. “Then I heard you call my name. The way you said my name, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. _ Caduceus_.”

He surges up to kiss him again, coaxing Caduceus’ mouth open, his fingers tangling in his hair and tilting Caduceus’ head so he can deepen the kiss. Caduceus struggles to match him, still trying to wrap his brain around the turn of events. He tries to mirror Fjord’s movements, the way his lips soften and slide smoothly against his own. It’s enough to make him feel light-headed, the sudden rush of arousal flooding his veins.

“Come to my room,” Fjord murmurs as he tugs the hem of Caduceus tunic loose from where it’s tucked into the sash around his waist so his fingers can find bare skin. “The others are still downstairs, no one will know. Come to my bed, Caduceus, let me make you say my name that way myself.”

Caduceus feels the heat settling into him overtake his shock and nods almost automatically, this time initiating the kiss himself, one hand on Fjord’s shoulder and the other cupping his jaw. He slides his tongue into Fjord’s mouth and Fjord lets out a rough groan that’s better than anything Caduceus could ever imagine. It makes his knees shake and heat throb between his legs.

“Come on,” Fjord breathes against his lips. He takes a step back onto the stair below him, taking Caduceus’ hands to tug him with him. 

Caduceus trails after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy, Fjord’s fingers slipping between his own as he pulls him down the stairs. The gesture feels intimate, grounding. They’ve barely shut the door to Fjord’s room behind them before Fjord is undoing the sash around Caduceus’ middle, his breath hot on Caduceus’ neck as he kisses sloppily over his throat. Caduceus fumbles clumsily with clasps of Fjord’s long surcoat, suddenly relieved neither of them have to worry about undoing the many layers of armor they wear when they travel.

He pushes the fabric back off Fjord’s shoulders and Fjord pauses to yank the single long sleeve off his arm, leaving him in just his boots and trousers. He leans up to try and kiss Caduceus again but Caduceus stops him, eyes roving greedily over his bare chest and arms, drinking in the planes of muscle that shift under his fingers as his hands drag down Fjord’s stomach.

Fjord’s abdominals firm and flex under his palms and Caduceus glances up to see him watching him with a faint smirk. He sinks down to his knees to unbuckle and discard his boots, straightening back up and hooking his thumbs in the high waistband of his breeches to push them down his hips and thighs along with his small clothes, eyes still fixed on Caduceus as he kicks them aside, leaving him completely naked.

Caduceus can feel his mouth hanging open dumbly, eyes dropping automatically to where Fjord’s erection is heavy between his legs, thick and dark at the head. It makes the heat in his own groin throb and his thighs shake with arousal.

“You can touch. I want you to touch,” Fjord murmurs, crowding into his space again and taking one of his hands to guide it to his erection. He hums pleasantly when Caduceus fingers wrap firmly around the length. It’s warm under his skin, thick and slightly ridged up the underside. 

“_Caduceus_.”

He breathes Caduceus’ name in a quiet sigh, his voice hitching as he says it. It’s overwhelming, having so many of his fantasies suddenly come true at once. It’s one thing to lay back and sink into his own imagination, to allow his brain to conjure up images and sensations. It’s entirely different to have Fjord right there, real and warm under his touch. He suddenly feels embarrassed by his own lack of actual experience. Fjord seems to pick up on his hesitation, his lips pressing soothingly over his jaw.

“We can stop,” he says even as his fingers undo the front of Caduceus’ tunic and his hands play across his bare stomach, “if it’s too much.”

Caduceus shakes his head, his hand squeezing and pumping Fjord’s cock experimentally. Fjord groans and pushes into his hand and he feels a surge of confidence.

“No,” he says, cupping Fjord’s chin with his other hand and tilting his head back so he can watch the shudder of pleasure play across his face when he strokes him again. “I don’t want to stop.”

Fjord’s lips part and he tries to kiss him, whining when Caduceus keeps a firm grip on his chin to stop him. He knows Fjord could easily overpower him if he really wanted to, the thought of which sends an excited thrill down his spine, both at the idea of Fjord doing just that and of him bending to his own desire so readily.

“What do you want, then?” Fjord murmurs. His eyes are fixed on Caduceus’ lips.

“I want to go to the bed,” Caduceus replies, resting his forehead against Fjord’s and allowing their lips to graze together without really kissing him. 

He suddenly feels a longing ache in his chest as it hits him that he’s here with Fjord, who has not only been the subject of his fantasies but the one who makes stomach flip and squirm with butterflies. He presses his lips hard against Fjord’s with a needy whine, relieved when Fjord kisses him back with just as much fervor, chasing the doubt from his mind. Fjord’s tusks catch on his lower lip, a shock of blunt pain that makes him shiver and whimper softly.

Fjord helps him out of the rest of his clothes with eager, impatient hands, stumbling back towards the bed and pulling Caduceus with him. Caduceus pauses when they’re both on the bed, Fjord underneath him, naked and smoothing his hands down his chest and sides like he’s imagined so many times. He sits back on Fjord’s thighs, resting his hands flat on his chest and groping lightly over his pectorals and shoulders, feeling the firm muscle under his fingers.

“You like that, don’t you?” Fjord says with a faintly amused tone.

Caduceus nods, humming absently as he fondles Fjord’s biceps, kneading the bulge of lean muscle. Fjord flexes his arms and Caduceus almost groans at the way they harden under his fingers. Fjord grips his narrow hips in both hands and rolls his hips up, his cock sliding against the seam of Caduceus’ thigh.

“You’re so skinny,” Fjord mumbles, running his hands up Caduceus’ waist and over the faint lines of his rib cage before trailing back down the dip of his stomach, one hand wrapping loosely around his cock. “But here… fuck.” 

He sits up on one elbow, canting his hips up in time with the movement of his fingers around Caduceus’ erection. Caduceus shudders and buckles forward, planting his hands on either side of Fjord’s shoulders.

“Come here,” Fjord murmurs, hooking one leg around Caduceus’ thigh to pull him down flush against him before flipping him over on the bed with a soft _ thump_. His latches his lips immediately onto Caduceus’ neck with a low moan, rutting down against him roughly, the slide of his cock against Caduceus’ slick with the pre-come. The bed squeaks and smacks against the wall with each thrust and Caduceus tries not to think about what the others will do if they hear it.

Caduceus lets his eyes slide shut, biting his bottom lip as his hands settle on Fjord’s ass. He squeezes at the firm flesh, feeling almost giddy at being able to do yet another thing he’s thought of doing so frequently. Fjord seems to appreciate the touch just as much, groaning and thrusting back eagerly into his hands. Caduceus palms and gropes at him greedily, letting his legs fall open wider so Fjord can settle between them. Selfishly, he wants Fjord to take the time to open him up with his fingers and sink into him—or for him to do the same to Fjord—to fulfill another of his fantasies. But he can already feel the hot ache in his belly of his building orgasm, can tell by the way Fjord is grunting and the rough way he’s pushing his hips down that he’s getting close, too. 

“_Fjord._”

“_Yes_,” Fjord breathes, nodding encouragingly. He bites lightly at Caduceus jaw before kissing him, hungry and uncoordinated, his tongue pushing into Caduceus’ mouth. “How do you feel?”

“It’s—it feels good,” Caduceus whines.

Fjord laughs weakly, the sound breathy and broken, and nods. He leans his forehead against Caduceus’, his breath hot and shaky on Caduceus’ lips. He smiles, barely a quirk at the corners of his lips, but it comes with a warm affection behind his gaze that makes Caduceus’ heart leap. 

“Caduceus.”

His name sounds so sweet on his lips, soft and honeyed and almost playful, that Caduceus doesn’t think anything he imagines could ever live up to it.

Fjord kisses him again with a gentle whine and Caduceus wraps his arms around him in semblance of a hug as that hot ache builds and burns almost painfully before it suddenly breaks. His legs tremble and his mouth falls open in a gasp as his orgasm floods his veins, Fjord murmuring his name encouragingly as he continues to grind down against him jerkily. Caduceus is still trying to catch his breath when Fjord grunts quietly and he feels another gush of warm fluid against his hip.

Fjord rests his head in the crook of Caduceus’ neck for a few seconds, breathing heavily, and Caduceus lets his hand stroke almost automatically down his back, slick with sweat under his fingers. He lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh that Caduceus echoes, smiling wide and sheepish when Fjord lifts his head to look at him, mirroring his smile.

Fjord kisses him again, slow and sweet, and Caduceus sighs contentedly and squeezes him around the middle.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned for things to happen,” Fjord murmurs at last, pressing another chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But I think I’m okay with the outcome.”

“Planned?” Caduceus echoes, his stomach squirming happily when Fjord nuzzles the underside of his jaw affectionately. 

“When I was coming to talk to you the other night,” Fjord says, now folding his arms on Caduceus’ chest so he can peer down at him, “I was going to try and talk to you about… things. I admit I was a little relieved to discover you felt the same.”

“Sorry about that,” Caduceus grimaces.

“No, it was—well, I liked hearing you say my name like that,” Fjord admits with a slow smile. “I’d like to hear it again.”

Caduceus hums thoughtfully. “I guess I could think about it,” he says.

Fjord’s smile turns sly.

“Why don’t you think about it while I clean up?” he says. Before Caduceus can respond, he’s sliding down the bed to settle between his legs, tongue slowly lapping up the sticky mess from Caduceus’ stomach and hips and softening cock.

Caduceus stares down at him in disbelief, stifling a groan and relaxing back into the pillows. He combs his fingers loosely through Fjord’s hair, pushing it back off his face so he can watch the way his tongue drags across his skin.

The real thing is definitely better than his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> Caduceus loves meaty boys it’s canon


End file.
